The Paradise: Garden of Eden
by ToryTigress92
Summary: A story set in the world of the Paradise. Denise Lovett comes to the Paradise from the country. She knows nothing of love or desire, but when she meets the dark, enigmatic owner of the Paradise, she will soon discover exactly what they feel like. But John Moray is hiding a dark secret, and Denise might find out more than she's ready to know. Warning: Vampire fiction


Garden of Eden

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**A/N:** Set during Episode 1x01

* * *

_The night was cold as she stepped outside warm confines of the Paradise. The lantern burned in her hand, and she shrugged her wrap on, the soft black folds draping her arms and shoulders._

_Excitement and need burned her limbs, hurrying her onward, past the bustling pub and the black windows of her Uncle's shop, slipping through the shadows until she reached the small park where she and Moray had once walked together, to the bridge over the river._

_Her heart pounded, and she feared it must all be some awful trick, some prank Clara had set up to humiliate her. Surely, he could have nothing to say to her after his announcement that morning? He was engaged, he…_

_She should stop now. She should stop and go back to the Paradise, back to bed and forget the whole awful matter. It was like Miss Audrey said. She should let these feelings fade when they caused nothing but pain._

_She couldn't._

_Not even the knowledge he was to marry the haughty Miss Glendenning, not even the knowledge of what had really happened with his wife, not even the truth of him that she had discovered…nothing could stop her loving him._

_Denise glanced up from her hurry, and saw his silhouette, backlit by the light of a second lantern, and paused._

_She stood at the foot of a crossroads. She still was not sure how she knew, or what road she would take._

_He glanced sideways, meeting her eye, with such sorrow, such longing, that her breath strangled in her throat. His eyes begged her to come closer, and the compulsion, the tug deep within her inner soul, drew her onward without another thought._

_Her decision had already been made._

* * *

_**A few months before…**_

It had been years since Hélène died. Three, to be exact.

In all those years, he had felt nothing. No love, no affection, no attraction. For one of his kind, such a lack was almost anathema. Once he had thrived upon it, upon such heady feelings, then he had lost her. Hélène.

Then he had pretended, all the while feeling neither love, nor affection, nor lust.

Oh, he was constantly surrounded by it, like a choking perfume, suffocating and noxious, whenever he was in a room, whenever he prowled the halls of the Paradise, or walked with Miss Glendenning.

But he did not feel it. Not with Clara, not with Katherine. No one held the power to touch his heart since Hélène died.

One glance was all it took, and he felt the foundations of his carefully constructed world shift.

He stood in the foyer of the Paradise, expounding upon the delights of the porcelain figurine in his hand to a customer, when he felt it. An inner tug, a compulsion to look up.

He did, and he felt his soul captivated by the small, slender angel stood opposite the open doors of the Paradise, looking up in sheer wonder at the displays in the windows, before glancing inside curiously.

His eyes skimmed over golden hair artlessly tumbling down over the shoulders of her plain, rough gown; framing a face which Botticelli might have painted. Blue eyes met and held his for one, interminable moment, and then she was gone, turned away with a sweet smile.

But it was not just her smile or her eyes which stayed in his mind, as he too turned away. She was beautiful but then so was Clara, so was Katherine.

No, it was more than that. _**She**_ was more than that.

As the wind had blown in through the doors of the Paradise, it had carried her scent upon its wings, soft, intoxicating, temptation itself. As no other had called to him since Hélène died, as no other ever had.

John watched her cross the street to Edmund Lovett's shop, and disappear inside. In his head, the sight of her angelic features and mouth-watering scent stayed with him the entire day, wreathing his senses and giving him no peace.

* * *

Denise was spellbound by the sight of the Paradise. Its name, written in sprawling golden calligraphy on the mantel above her head, its white doors opening in to reveal a golden, warm world tempting her inwards with the gleaming, softly shimmering rooms within.

Her gaze dropped, to meet that of a man, tall, darkly handsome in an excellently cut suit. Denise's trained eye lingered on the line of his shoulders, and the perfectly pressed necktie.

She met his eyes again, and felt her heart pound and then stop. A neatly trimmed beard framed a chiselled, leanly sensual face. Serious brown eyes held hers intently, sending a cold shiver down her spine. It felt like her soul had been laid bare, for his eyes to peruse, and she fought the urge to shrink back.

What she saw, fleetingly, in his eyes held her in place. A deep, unending sorrow that touched and wrenched her heart, coupled with a consuming hunger that both thrilled and terrified her.

The urge to run into his arms almost made her move towards him. Something inside her recognised him, and reached out to him, in that realm of souls beneath that of the living. It was far beyond the ken of a country girl.

She forced herself to turn away; distracted from the disturbing force urging her to turn back to the Paradise, and her eyes fell on the golden-haired woman being thrown out onto the street by the darkly dressed, gnarled old man. His piercing gaze sent unpleasant shivers down her spine, as she looked down and away, to her uncle's shop, to safety and normality, and her new life.

* * *

He stood, watching over his realm, his Paradise. Pride filled him, as it always did, when he looked at what they had accomplished.

They had done well, him and Dudley. Far better than most of their kind.

It was almost enough to momentarily forget the golden-haired angel who had all but teetered on his doorstep only hours before. The thought of her made him restless again, and he sighed.

Something was missing. The Paradise was not yet all he needed it to be.

He inhaled a familiar scent and smiled.

"Moray?" Dudley called. John smiled.

"I don't know why you bother," he replied quietly, teasingly. "I can hear and smell you coming a mile off."

"No you can't, you great buffoon," Dudley chuckled, shaking his head. Out of the two, John had always been the sharper. Dudley maintained that was because of their distinctive personalities before they were changed. Dudley was cautious where John was impetuous, patient where he was not, steady where he was reckless.

It had been John's recklessness that had changed them both forever.

At the memory, dark and poisonous, John forced it away determinedly, turning and facing his oldest friend, reaching for the ledger in his hand. "Saturday's figures?"

"One hundred and fifty-three pounds," Dudley held up the crisp white pages eagerly. "You did it."

"We did it, Dudley," he murmured. "We did it."

"Oh, Lord," Dudley sighed. "Don't you dare!"

"What?" John asked, stung.

"That look." Dudley closed the ledger.

"What look is that?" John turned away impatiently.

"Restlessness. Upheaval. Trouble," Dudley replied. "Admit it! You've something on your mind."

He did. He thought of the girl, and forced her aside once more, but she was there, at the back of his mind, like a ghost. He had the Paradise to focus on, and he did have an idea.

"You'll find out soon enough," John murmured. "I must go. I'm expected at Lord Glendenning's for tea."

"Oh. Have fun," Dudley smirked knowingly, and John did nothing to correct him. Just as Dudley turned away, John called him back.

"How is Alice, by the way? It feels like years since our last supper together," he murmured, and Dudley smiled, a picture of happiness. Alice was Dudley's Chosen, the woman born for him. They had met ten years before, when he and Dudley had returned to the North after a century of wandering. Within a year, she had accepted him and they were married.

It was through Alice that John had met Hélène. She was not his Chosen, but she had been beautiful and sweet and she had loved him wholeheartedly, as he had never been in his life. Despite Dudley's slight disapproval, he had married her. He had never expected to find his Chosen. Never.

He had no doubt that would not change.

"She's well," Dudley smiled, the picture of contentment. "You must come, perhaps on Sunday."

Moray pushed aside the surge of envy for his friend's good fortune, and smiled before he walked away. He had the Paradise; she was all he needed.

* * *

Up close, he was even handsomer than she'd realised.

"Good morning Miss Audrey. Good morning girls!" his voice rang, clear as a bell and rich as port, across the room, as Denise turned to look. "Please, carry on!"

She was distracted by the haughty Miss Audrey asking for her testimonial. The way she said her Uncle's name made her feel like she was a criminal on trial, and Miss Audrey the lawyer who'd found out her guilty secret. The scornful salesgirl opposite her smirked, and Denise straightened, feeling eyes on her back.

"Is that Edmund Lovett?" he asked, and she turned to face him.

"Yes, sir," she replied firmly. She was impressed by the Paradise, but that didn't mean she would be ashamed of her Uncle. The way Mr Moray's eyes twinkled, she sensed he knew it too.

"Did he send you here?" he came out from behind the counter, hands in his pockets. Denise inhaled, and steeled herself.

"No, sir."

He could barely believe it. Just that morning he had made sure to shove her from his mind, and now there she was, in his store! Tall, slender and as angelically beautiful as he recalled, her rough country gown looking oddly innocuous surrounded by the silks and satins of the ladieswear department.

He inhaled, and her sweet, intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his throat burn. This girl would be trouble for him, he knew it. He should send her away…

"Well, if Lovett can't find work for his niece in his own establishment," he forced himself to look to Miss Audrey, making sure to keep a pleasant smile on his face. "I will gladly oblige a neighbour. That is, if Miss Audrey should choose to take you on."

"The application will proceed in the usual manner, Miss Lovett. We will write to you," Miss Audrey coolly dismissed her. The girl smiled and inclined her head with a sweet thank you, briefly meeting his gaze.

Time stopped once more, and John sucked in a pained breath he hid beneath a charming smile, as she tore away from his gaze, blue eyes wide with confusion and curiosity.

And with that, he watched her walk away, still dizzied by her, still consumed by her. She was brave and bold, he could see that in her eyes, and proud in her own way, when she had declared herself Lovett's niece in his rival's establishment. Intriguing. Disquieting.

He couldn't afford distractions. It was bad enough with Clara constantly making eyes at him.

He doubted she would make Miss Audrey's exacting standards, but at least no one could accuse him of not doing the right thing.

* * *

Denise caressed the black silk in her hands, and felt a shiver of excitement run through her.

After that…odd moment in ladieswear the day before, eye to eye with Mr Moray, she'd not been certain if she should accept the position at the Paradise. As it was, she was glad she had, as she finished lacing up the back of the dress, tight and fitted against her corset and undergarments. It was severe, but still so much finer than anything Denise had ever worn.

She remembered the hungry eyes of Mr Moray, and shivered, suddenly cold in her fine new gown.

* * *

Pauline was a whirlwind, a force of Nature, but Denise found she much preferred her to the snooty Clara. She was glad she'd found at least one friend in the Paradise.

Miss Audrey was strict and unyielding, like a schoolmistress. Denise supposed it was necessary, to run a department like ladieswear.

The dark gentleman she had seen the day she'd arrived, he unsettled her almost as much as Mr Moray, except in differently. His eyes had bored into hers as he had told her that Mrs Moray had fallen.

Something in Denise niggled that there was more to the story, but she wasn't game to annoy the sinister Mr Jonas further than she had to.

But it was not just that. His warning that she would be called to Mr Moray's office worried her, and she feared what it might mean.

She wondered exactly what she was getting herself into, coming to the Paradise.

* * *

They stood, watching as Miss Glendenning wandered through the store, and John smiled. She was beautiful enough, in a similar vein to Hélène, but rather spoiled and tiresome. He was fond enough of her, if in a somewhat exasperated way. He supposed they suited, but he wasn't keen to jump back into the marital noose.

"It's a triumph, Moray," Dudley chuckled, looking up from his ever-present ledger. "Katherine Glendenning in the Paradise. Everyone knows you'll marry her."

"Is that the gossip?" John asked, watching her, ivory silks gliding across his floors.

"Any man would marry Katherine Glendenning," Dudley scoffed, before he sobered. "She's not your Chosen, is she?"

"No, she isn't but it doesn't matter. You know I do not believe in all that, Dudley," John sighed, turning back to his friend with a censorious look. "We are not all romantics like you, my friend."

Marrying Katherine would bring security to the Paradise, allow him to expand and conqueror the city.

"Well, even if you stand there, cynical and world-weary, others can hope," Dudley retorted, coming to stand beside him and watch the lovely heiress. "Hasn't enough time passed now? You deserve to marry again."

With a fondly exasperated smile, John stepped away, towards Katherine when a familiar scent hit his senses and drew them like a lodestone.

Denise.

Forcing himself away, he spared her a glance, prim and proper in her uniform, and tried to ignore the call of her blood.

He felt her eyes on him, burning into him with a power he doubted she was conscious of, long into the afternoon.

* * *

She was called to his office.

She was felt her palms cold with sweat, as she cautiously knocked on the door. Inwardly, she chastised herself, telling herself she had nothing to be ashamed of. In her short time at the Paradise, she'd managed to earn commission despite Clara's best efforts, and done good work. Miss Audrey had begrudgingly told her so.

She had no reason to be fired, and no reason to be so scared by the prospect of being summoned to Mr Moray's office.

Pauline had said they were just tales, after all.

The office was a large, mahogany panelled room, crammed with bookshelves and papers, apart from the large painting of a woman over the fireplace. Mrs Moray, Denise guessed.

The master of the Paradise sat directly below her, and he looked up with a smile as she entered.

Denise felt her heart pound, then stutter uncontrollably. She steeled herself, and moved forward as he spoke.

"I thought we might review your probation, Miss," he stood from his desk, and paced before her. Clad in his brown suit and waistcoat, he looked effortlessly urbane and seductive, something rather missing in any man Denise had ever known before. "You know there are a hundred girls out there, that could take your place."

* * *

"Come closer," he turned to her, eyes raking her figure. John noticed that in the closer surrounds of his office, her uniform appeared seductive and svelte. She wore it well, with her golden curls piled high on her head. His own personal siren, come to torment him.

He found the words for her dismissal lingering on his lips, but he could not bring himself to say them. Last night had shown her talents, both with Katherine and with that display, before she'd hid behind the drapery.

She was talented, and deserved a chance, and damn his susceptibility to Hell! He would just have to conceal it.

So he instead found himself asking, "Do you like it here, Denise?"

"I do, Sir," she nodded, respectfully.

"Then you'd like to remain at your post?" he continued, noticing a slight unease enter the crystalline blue of her eyes at his words. He knew very well the rumours about him, about the girls called to his office. They were all wrong. "It is a simple enough question, Denise."

* * *

Her name was a sensual caress off his tongue. It made Denise shudder, warmth pooling inside her.

* * *

She seemed to come to a decision. Her jaw firmed, and the courage he saw the day she walked into ladieswear looking for work, and again while rescuing herself from Katherine's fussy sneers, awoke in her eyes. "I would, Sir."

He was intoxicated. Everything about her seemed to burn, and he found himself longing to become lost in her warmth. He had been cold for so long…

He remembered her hair, the way it had fallen so haphazardly over her shoulders and back, soft and strong. Even coiled as it was now, it exerted a hypnotic pull.

"Your hair," he whispered, his voice lowered to a seductive growl. His throat burned and something within him awoke, as her eyes widened. He raised his hand, and she stiffened as his fingertips grazed her forehead. "It should have the slightest…imperfection in it."

He lifted a single lock and draped it down her face. She shivered, and the blue of her eyes turned almost silver, as a familiar scent washed over him. Desire. Hers.

He felt his own roar into being, and tried his hardest to push it away. She would be his protégée, his student, nothing more. It could be nothing more.

Yet he couldn't stop himself. "Something suggestive," he smiled, and looked down, forcing his hand away. He turned and walked towards his desk, putting space between him and her intoxicating scent. "I heard you sold a dress to a rather difficult customer. You made a good impression. It seems you are quite the salesgirl."

"Thank you, sir," she seemed as grateful as he to fall back into the proper way of employer and employee.

"We can say your probation is over, and you're one of us now," he declared, and she smiled, a truly glorious, warm smile that lifted his heart. It was infectious as he smiled back.

"Thank you, Mr Moray, sir," she breathed and turned away. Still basking in the warmth of her smile, he couldn't bear for her to leave yet. Just a few moments more.

"Is your display attracting customers?" he asked. He had felt her, last night, behind the curtain. The temptation after Jonas had left had almost been too much. She turned back with a rueful smile, and he found himself moving towards her without conscious thought. "You suppose I didn't see you hiding there. I see everything. It makes me smile to think of it. What kind of a girl has such spirit? You are not like the other girls, I think you know that. I wonder if you realise the talents you have?"

The power she held over him. Standing so close to her again, no perfume, just the scent of soap and water, and that indescribable note which was pure Denise, it rose and wreathed his senses, making his mouth water. That afternoon, sat with Katherine and her vacuous, haughty friends, only the memory of Denise's scent had given him inspiration to charm them, as he always did.

A knock tore him from his fascination, and she moved back as if startled from sleep. "Yes?" he asked curtly, as Dudley poked his head in. Slightly more professionally, he straightened and forced aside everything when he spoke to Denise again. "If you have talents, and wits Denise, you will do well here. To truly belong, you need loyalty, absolute loyalty, to the Paradise and to me. Thank you."

She smiled and inclined her head, the polite face of the salesgirl masking the lingering desire and curiosity in her eyes, as she turned and walked away, inclining her head once to Dudley as she left.

* * *

She stayed with him, after Dudley's betrayal, after Clara's importuning, begging for his bite, in his mind, the entire night. He dreamed of her in the few scant hours of rest he allowed himself.

His Denise. His.

* * *

She dreamed of him, that night. Dark, intense eyes and strong arms, doing nothing but watching her, holding her, protecting her.

It made her smile.

She was torn from sleep by Clara's enraged face and strangling presence. "You think you're precious?" she demanded scornfully. "You are nothing! He lay in my arms, d'you hear me? He told me things!"

Clara's claim that Moray had taken her to bed with him awoke something akin to envy in Denise, and possessiveness she didn't understand as she shoved the furious salesgirl away, Pauline awaking with a cry.

"He lay in my arms sobbing, and told me terrible things!" Clara shouted, as Denise sat up. "D'you know what, wouldn't it be something if I were to tell the whole city how his wife died!? Wait until the store is filled with his beloved customers and cry it out so they'd all hear it!"

"Clara, you wouldn't do such a thing!" Pauline snapped as she sat up in her bed. Clara turned on her like a feral cat, snarling.

"Wouldn't I?"

Denise went cold as she noticed two small scars on Clara's neck, previously hidden by the high neck of their dresses.

* * *

It stayed with her, throughout the rest of the day, during the sale. The memory of those two marks on Clara's neck.

"You are," Pauline smiled at her, as she stood, watching him intently, after he made his speech. "In love with him."

"Pauline," she searched around for an answer, a lie. She was not in love with Moray. "I don't want to marry Moray. I want to be him."

And it was partially true. She wanted to learn from him and then make her own stamp on the world. Regardless of all else, that was all she would allow herself.

Even when she felt his hand close around hers, when he gave her a bonus, she would not allow her mind to wander further. A dark secret lay at the heart of the Paradise, she was sure. She wanted no part of its temptation, just to learn from its owner.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Or so she told herself, as she stopped the next morning at the mirrors in the staff quarters, and plucked a single strand of hair to lie rakishly against her face.

* * *

_To be continued…_


End file.
